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I couldn’t remember the last time Ralph had voluntarily walked anywhere. I’d pushed him, the same way I’d pushed Jerome. I spend so much time emotionally distancing myself from criminal investigations, trying to maintain my sanity, that I’d intentionally ignored the fact that this was more than just a case for Ralph. This was the fallout from an act that had defined his adult life, that had shaped every choice he’d made for the past thirty years. It made him who he was. It would take a lot to change the way he thought about what had happened, like switching out the foundation of a house without making it collapse. It could be done, but it wasn’t something he could do alone.
If I was going to help, I needed to stop pushing his buttons, and I’d need more than just my gut. I’d need some
